These Happy Golden Years

by Laura Ingalls Wilder

  Laura was amazed, that a man who knew so much about farming and horses could know so little about a girl like Nellie. But she said only, “No, you wouldn’t know, because you did not go to school with us. I will tell you what I’d like to do, I’d like to take Ida driving.”

  “We will, sometime,” Almanzo agreed. “But today is pretty fine, just by ourselves.”

  It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was almost too warm, and Almanzo said that the colts were so well broken now that they could raise the buggy top. So together, each with a hand, they raised it and pressed the hinge of the braces straight to hold it up. Then they rode in its shade with the gentle wind blowing through the open sides.

  After that day, nothing was ever said about the next Sunday, but always at two o’clock Almanzo drove around the corner of Pearson’s livery barn, and Laura was ready when he stopped at the door. Pa would look up from his paper and nod good-by to her, then go on reading, and Ma would say, “Don’t be out too late, Laura.” June came and the wild prairie roses bloomed. Laura and Almanzo gathered them beside the road and filled the buggy with the fragrant blossoms.

  Then one Sunday at two o’clock the corner of Pearson’s barn remained empty. Laura could not imagine what might have happened, till suddenly the colts were at the door, and Ida was in the buggy, laughing merrily. Almanzo had gone by the Reverend Brown’s, and persuaded Ida to come. Then for a surprise, he had crossed the Big Slough west of the town road; this brought them to Pa’s land a little south of the house, and while Laura watched toward the north, they had come up from the opposite direction.

  They drove that day to Lake Henry, and it was the merriest of drives. The colts behaved beautifully. They stood quietly while Ida and Laura filled their arms with the wild roses and climbed back into the buggy. They nibbled at the bushes by the road while Almanzo and the girls watched the little waves ripple along the shores of the lakes on either hand.

  The road was so narrow and so low that Laura said, “I should think the water might be over the road sometimes.”

  “Not since I have known it,” Almanzo answered, “but perhaps, many years or ages ago, the two lakes were one.”

  Then for a while, they sat in silence and Laura thought how wild and beautiful it must have been when the twin lakes were one, when buffalo and antelope roamed the prairie around the great lake and came there to drink, when wolves and coyotes and foxes lived on the banks and wild geese, swans, herons, cranes, ducks, and gulls nested and fished and flew there in countless numbers.

  “Why did you sigh?” Almanzo asked.

  “Did I?” said Laura. “I was thinking that wild things leave when people come. I wish they wouldn’t.”

  “Most people kill them,” he said.

  “I know,” Laura said. “I can’t understand why.”

  “It is beautiful here,” said Ida, “but we are a long way from home and I promised Elmer I’d go to church with him tonight.”

  Almanzo tightened the reins and spoke to the colts while Laura asked, “Who’s Elmer?”

  “He is a young man who has a claim near Father Brown’s and he boards at our place,” Ida told her. “He wanted me to go walking with him this afternoon, but I thought I’d rather go with you, this once. You’ve never seen Elmer… McConnell,” she remembered to add.

  “There are so many new people, and I can’t keep track even of the ones I know,” Laura said.

  “Mary Power is going with the new clerk in Ruth’s bank,” Ida told her.

  “But Cap!” Laura exclaimed. “What about Cap Garland?”

  “Cap’s smitten with a new girl who lives west of town,” Almanzo told them.

  “Oh, I think it’s a pity we don’t all go in a crowd any more,” Laura lamented. “What fun the sleighing parties were, and now everyone’s paired off.”

  “Oh, well,” Ida said. “‘In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.’”

  “Yes, or it’s this,” and Laura sang,

  “Oh whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad,

  Oh whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad,

  Though father and mither and a’ should gae mad,

  Oh whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad.”

  “Would you?” Almanzo asked.

  “Of course not!” Laura answered. “That’s only a song.”

  “Better whistle for Nellie, she’d come,” Ida teased, and then she said soberly, “But she is afraid of these horses. She says they aren’t safe.”

  Laura laughed delightedly. “They were a little wild, the time she was with us,” she said.

  “But I can’t understand it. They are perfectly gentle,” Ida insisted.

  Laura only smiled and tucked the dust robe in more securely. Then she saw Almanzo looking sidewise at her behind Ida’s head, and she let her eyes twinkle at him. She didn’t care if he did know that she had frightened the colts to scare Nellie, on purpose.

  All the miles home they rode talking and singing, until they came to Laura’s home, and as she left them she asked, “Won’t you come with us next Sunday, Ida?”

  Blushing, Ida answered, “I would like to, but I… I think I’m going walking with Elmer.”

  Chapter 21

  Barnum and Skip

  June was gone, and Laura’s school was out. The organ was paid for. Laura learned to play a few chords with Pa’s fiddle, but she would rather listen to the fiddle alone, and after all, the organ was for Mary’s enjoyment when Mary came home.

  One evening Pa said, “Tomorrow’s Fourth of July. Do you girls want to go to the celebration in town?”

  “Oh no, let’s have it as it was last year,” Carrie said. “I don’t want to be in a crowd where they shoot off firecrackers. I’d rather have our own firecrackers at home.”

  “I want lots of candy at home,” Grace put in her vote.

  “I suppose Wilder will be around with that team and buggy, Laura?” Pa asked.

  “He didn’t say anything about it,” Laura answered. “But I don’t want to go to the celebration, anyway.”

  “Is this unanimous, Caroline?” Pa wanted to know.

  “Why, yes, if you agree with the girls,” Ma smiled at them all. “I will plan a celebration dinner, and the girls will help me cook it.”

  All the next morning they were very busy. They baked fresh bread, a pieplant pie, and a two-egg cake. Laura went to the garden, and with her fingers dug carefully into the hills of potatoes to find new potatoes. She gathered enough potatoes for dinner, without injuring one plant by disturbing its roots. Then she picked the first of the green peas, carefully choosing only the plump pods.

  Ma finished frying a spring chicken while the new potatoes and the peas were cooked and given a cream dressing. The Fourth of July dinner was just ready, all but steeping the tea, when Pa came home from town. He brought lemons for afternoon lemonade, firecrackers for the evening, and candy for all the time after dinner.

  As he gave the packages to Ma, he said to Laura, “I saw Almanzo Wilder in town. He and Cap Garland were hitching up a new team he’s got. That young fellow missed his vocation; he ought to be a lion tamer. Those horses are wilder than hawks. It was all he and Cap could do to handle them. He said to tell you if you want to go for a buggy ride this afternoon, be ready to climb in when he drives up, for he won’t be able to get out to help you. Said to tell you, there’s another team to break.”

  “I do believe he wants to break your neck!” said Ma. “And I hope he breaks his own, first.”

  This was so unlike Ma’s gentle self that they all stared at her.

  “Wilder will manage the horses, Caroline. Don’t worry,” Pa said confidently. “If ever I saw a born horseman, he’s one.”

  “Do you really not want me to go, Ma?” Laura asked.

  “You must use your own judgment, Laura,” Ma replied. “Your Pa says it is safe, so it must be.”

  After they had slowly enjoyed that delicious dinner, Ma told Laura to leave the dishes and go put on
her poplin if she intended to go driving. “I’ll do up the work,” Ma said.

  “But you have worked all morning,” Laura objected. “I can do it and still have time to dress.”

  “Neither of you need bother about the dishes,” Carrie spoke up. “I’ll wash, and Grace will wipe. Come on, Grace. You and I are older than Mary and Laura were when they did the work.”

  So Laura was ready and waiting at the door when Almanzo came. She had never seen the horses before. One was a tall bay, with black mane and tail. The other was a large brown horse, spotted with white. On one side of his brown neck a white spot resembled a rooster. A streak of white in the brown mane looked like the rooster’s tail.

  Almanzo stopped this strange team and Laura went toward the buggy, but the brown horse reared straight up on his hind legs, with front feet pawing the air, while the bay horse jumped ahead. Almanzo loosened the reins and as the horses sprang away he called, “I’ll be back.”

  Laura waited while he drove around the house. When he stopped the horses again, she went quickly to the buggy, but stepped back as again the spotted horse reared and the bay jumped.

  Pa and Ma were beside Laura; Carrie stood in the doorway clutching a dish towel, and Grace looked out beside her. They all waited while Almanzo drove around the house again.

  Ma said, “You’d better not to try to go, Laura,” but Pa told her, “Caroline, she will be all right. Wilder will handle them.”

  This time as Almanzo stopped the horses he turned them a little, cramping the buggy to give Laura a better chance to get between the wheels. “Quick,” he said.

  Hoops and all, Laura moved quickly. Her right hand grasped the folded-down braces of the buggy top, her right foot touched the buggy step, and as the spotted horse reared and the bay horse leaped, her left foot stepped into the buggy and she dropped into the seat. “Drat these hoops!” she muttered, while she settled them inside the speeding buggy, and covered her brown poplin with the dust robe.

  “Don’t touch the buggy top!” Almanzo said, and then they were silent. He was fully occupied in keeping control of the horses, and Laura made herself small on her side of the seat to keep out of the way of his straining arms as he tried to pull the horses down out of their run. They went north because they were headed that way. As they streaked through town Laura caught a glimpse of a thickly scrambling crowd getting out of the way, and Cap Garland’s grin as he waved his hand to her.

  Later she thought with satisfaction that she had sewed the ribbon ties to her poke bonnet herself; she was sure the stitches would not give way.

  The horses settled to a fast trot, and Almanzo remarked. “They said you wouldn’t go, and Cap said you would.”

  “Did he bet I would?” Laura asked.

  “I didn’t, if that’s what you want to know,” Almanzo answered. “I wouldn’t bet about a lady. Anyway, I wasn’t sure how you’d like this circus I’m driving.”

  “What became of the colts?” Laura inquired.

  “I sold them.”

  “But Prince and Lady…” Laura hesitated. “I am not criticizing these horses, I just wondered if anything is wrong with Prince and Lady.”

  “Nothing is wrong. Lady has a colt and Prince doesn’t drive so well without Lady. I had an offer of three hundred dollars for the colts, they’re a well-matched, well-broken team and worth it, but you can’t be sure of a fair price every day. This team cost me only two hundred, That’s a clear gain of a hundred dollars, and I figure I can sell these for more than they cost me, if I want to, when they’re broken. I think it will be fun to break them, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes!” Laura answered. “We will teach them to be gentle.”

  “That’s what I figured. By the way, the spotted one’s named Barnum, and the bay is Skip. We won’t go by the picnic grounds; the firecrackers would make them wild again,” Almanzo said.

  The horses went on mile after mile at a swift trot on the road across the open prairie. Rain had fallen the night before and water stood in pools wherever the road dipped, but Barnum and Skip refused to get their feet wet. They jumped across every puddle, taking the buggy flying over it with them and not a spatter fell on Laura’s poke bonnet.

  The Fourth of July sun was hot, and Laura wondered why Almanzo did not suggest raising the buggy top until he said, “I’m sorry, but if we raised the top these horses would be frantic. I don’t know if I could hold them. Cap and I together couldn’t hitch them to the buggy till we put the top down.”

  So they rode in the sunshine with the prairie wind blowing and white clouds sailing the blue sky overhead. They drove to Spirit Lake, around the end of it and beyond; then by different roads they went home again.

  “We have driven sixty miles,” Almanzo said as they neared the house. “I think the horses will stand to let you out. I daren’t get out to help you, for fear they would leave me.”

  “I can get out myself,” Laura said. “Don’t let the horses get away. But won’t you stay to supper?”

  “I’d like to, but I must get the horses back to town before I stop them, so Cap can help me unhitch. Here we are. Don’t jiggle the buggy top as you step down between the wheels.”

  Laura tried not to, but she did jar it a little; Barnum reared, Skip leaped, and they dashed away.

  When Almanzo came next Sunday, Laura knew what to expect. She was quick to spring into the buggy the first time the horses stopped.

  They were headed east, and they ran that way. After a while they went more quietly, and Almanzo drove them by a roundabout way to the twin lakes. Rapidly, but without rearing or plunging, they passed over the narrow road between the lakes, and on the homeward road they trotted.

  “I have been driving them some this week, and I guess they are beginning to get the idea that they might as well behave,” Almanzo remarked.

  “But they are not as much fun when they behave,” Laura complained.

  “You think not? Well, then let’s teach them what a buggy top is for. Catch hold!”

  Barely in time to do her part, Laura caught the front brace at her side of the buggy top and lifted it as Almanzo lifted his side. Quickly she pressed back on the hinge in its middle, straightening and clamping it as Almanzo did. The top was up and held firmly in place, just in the nick of time.

  Skip sprang, and Laura caught her breath as Barnum reared. Up and up he went, forefeet pawing the air higher still, and his huge back rising in front of the dashboard. Nearer it came and nearer, in one more instant it would topple backward upon the buggy. Then with a great leap Barnum came down, far ahead, running with Skip. The buggy top swayed with the swiftness of its going and fear of it increased their speed.

  Almanzo’s arms were rigid as he held the reins that were taut and straight as wires. Laura shrank back in her corner of the seat, held her breath and hoped they would not break.

  At last the horses tired, and slowed to a trot. Almanzo drew a deep breath and relaxed a little. “Was that better?” he smiled at Laura.

  Laura laughed shakily. “Much better, so long as the harness holds together,” she said.

  “The harness will hold. I had it made to order at Schaub’s harness shop. Every strap is sound leather and it’s double-riveted and wax-sewed. In time these horses will learn the difference between running and running away,” he said confidently. “They were runaways, you know.”

  “Were they?” said Laura, and her laugh was still a little shaky.

  “Yes, that’s why I got them so cheap. They can run, but they can’t run away from us. After a while they’ll learn that they can’t, and they’ll stop trying and be a good team.”

  “The buggy top is still up, and still scaring them. How will we ever get it down?” Laura wanted to know.

  “We don’t need to put it down. Just be careful not to shake it when you’re getting out, and I’ll leave it up.”

  The dangerous instant, in getting in or out of the buggy, was the instant that she was between the wheels. She had to be quicker than the h
orses, and go between the wheels without being caught.

  When Almanzo stopped the horses at her door, very carefully Laura stooped under the buggy top’s braces without touching them, and quickly she got to the ground. Her skirts swooshed as she went, and the horses jumped and were gone.

  She was surprised that her knees felt weak as she went into the house. Pa turned to look at her.

  “Safely home again,” he said.

  “There isn’t a bit of danger,” Laura told him.

  No, of course not, but just the same I shall feel better when those horses are quieter. I suppose you’re going again next Sunday?”

  “I think so,” Laura answered.

  Next Sunday the horses were much quieter. They stood while Laura got into the buggy. Then quickly they started and trotted swiftly away. Almanzo drove them through town and northward. As the miles slipped behind them, their shining coats became dark with sweat.

  Almanzo gently tried to pull them back to a walk. “Better slow down, boys, you’ll be cooler if you do,” he told them, but they refused to slacken their speed. “Oh, well, if you want to go, it won’t hurt you,” he added.

  “It is terribly warm,” Laura said, raising the bangs from her forehead to let the wind blow underneath them. The heat of the sun was intense and strangely smothering.

  “We can raise the top,” Almanzo said, but doubtfully.

  “Oh, no, let’s don’t!” Laura objected. “The poor things are warm enough, without running away… without running,” she corrected herself.

  “It is pretty warm to excite them so much,” Almanzo agreed. “It might not hurt them, but I’d rather not risk it, if you don’t mind the sun.”

  As time passed the horses trotted more slowly. Still they would not walk, but trotted onward steadily until Laura suggested turning homeward earlier than usual because of the weather signs.

  The wind came in short, hot puffs from every direction, and thunderclouds were in the west. Almanzo agreed, “It does look like rain.”

  Turned toward home, the horses trotted more swiftly, but it was a long way to go. Ghostly whirlwinds sped invisible over the prairie, twisting the grass in small circles as they went, as if unseen fingers were stirring it.